"It seems unjust to me, I own,
To let the liquor curse alone-
You rail at all the other sins.
Almost before the spring begins
You rail at fashion's wild excess,
And sermonize the women's dress.
Such eloquence on rum bestowed
Might save some sinking souls to God."

"My dear," said Parson Policy,
"The course proposed appears to me
A meddlesome excess of zeal;

And business men, no doubt, must feel

That ministerial eloquence

Can have no sanction or pretence

Of justice when its war is made

On licensed, legitimate trade."

"Well, well," she said. "Why cannot you Try moral suasion? That might do

Much good." He answered, "No, my dear,
I must decline to interfere.

The state has done the best it can
By taxing liquor to a man."

"Oh, yes," she cried. "They license evil,
And 'furnish rope to lead the devil.'"

"Why, wife," the Parson, shocked, arose, Reproachful, eyeglass on his nose,"What freak possesses you of late That you arraign the church and state? How should a little woman see

The duty of a man like me?

Or rail at legislative laws

Designed to aid the temperance cause?"

"Nay, dear, we need not be at strife,
Let pity move you," said the wife.
"Oh, help each weak and sinning soul
To shun the wine-cup's base control.
Beneath the Everlasting Rock

God's faithful shepherd feeds his flock;
He bears the young lambs in his arms,
He shields the straying flock from harm.

"Can you, oh, shepherd of the Lord,
Do less than teach his faithful word?

Do less than preach his whole stern truth
To all your flock in age or youth?"

My dear," said Parson Policy,

'Why argue when we can't agree?
I've had a long and tiresome day,
I'm tired and sleepy-let us pray."

"Oh, God," prayed Mrs. Policy,
With lifted eye and bended knee,
"Our land o'erflows with whisky waves,
Our men go down to drunkard's graves.
Look thou upon our grief in kindness;
Have pity on the clergy's blindness;
And teach them all to give their aid
To check this fearful liquor trade!”

NICKNAMES OF THE STATES.-H. U. JOHNSON. Dear Uncle Sam has many girls,

All precious in his eyes,

Though varying much in many things,

As age, and wealth, and size.

As sentiment they vary, too,

In beauty, spirit, grace;

The wealth of some is in the breast,

Of others on the face.

He early gave them single names,
Though double just a few;

Then father-like he nicknamed them,
As older girls they grew.

Miss Arkansas he called his "Bear,"

New York the "Empire State;" "Excelsior," he sometimes says When he would her elate.

Rhode Island is his "Rhody" pet,

Or "Little Rhoda," dear.

When Texas, the "Lone Star," looks down

Upon her midget peer.

North Carolina, "Old North State,"

She is his "Turpentine;"

"Mother of Presidents," V-a,

Doth "Old Dominion" shine.

Ohio is his "Buckeye" lass,

His "Sweet Queen" Maryland;
His "Keystone," Pennsylvania,
To "Pennymites" is grand.

Miss Maine he calls his "Lumber yard,"
Then "Pine Tree" sweetly sings;
That Oregon is "Spirit Land,"

To all he gaily flings.

Missouri beams the "Central Star,"

"Blue Hen" is Delaware,

Or when he would her pride expand,
He "Diamond" lets her flare.

Miss California, we shall find,
Is "Golden" on his knee;
His "Silver sheen" Nevada holds,
"Big Bend" is Tennessee.

South Carolina hears his call,
"Palmetto" in her hand;
New Jersey's grit he honors much,
She is his "Child of Sand."

"Green Mountain " lass he hails Vermont, Nebraska," Blizzard home;"

"Pan Handle," clipped from "Old Dostain, Is West Virginia tome.

His "Bayou" Mississippi is,

New Hampshire "Granite" pride; Louisiana, "Sugar State,"

His "Creole" doth abide.

"Jayhawker" Kansas, most he calls
His "Garden of the West,"
On Massachusetts, old "Bay State,"
He lets his blessing rest.

Miss Minnesota "Gopher" State,
His "North Star" ever shines;
O'er Michigan, his "Wolverine,"
He spreads his waving pines.

Kentucky is his "Blue Grass" field,
His "Dark and Bloody Ground;"
But Florida "Peninsula,"

His "Flower-land" will be found.

As "Empire of the South " he greets
Miss Georgia in his joy;

But "Sucker" or my "Prairie" bird,
He hails fair Illinois.

Sweet" Hoosier" is the name inscribed
On Indiana's breast,
Whilst Iowa rejoices much

With "Hawkeye" on her crest.
"Centennial" Colorado shines,
Wisconsin's "Badger" child;
That "Nutmeg," Miss Connecticut,
Is "Free Stone" on the guild.
At Alabama, "Here We Rest,"
Our dear old uncle calls,

Until into the sisterhood

Some new-born sister falls.

AUNT MELISSY ON BOYS.*-J. T. TROWBRIDGE.

I hain't nothin' agin' boys, as sich. They're a necessary part o' creation, I s'pose-like a good many disagreeable things! But deliver me! I'd ruther bring up a family of nine gals, any day in the year, with cats au' dogs throw'd in, than one boy.

Gittin' fishhooks into their jacket-pockets, to stick in yer fingers washin'-days! Gals don't carry fishhooks in their jacket-pockets. Tearin' their trousis a-climbin' fences! perfec'ly reckless! an' then, patch! patch! Gals don't tear their trousis a-climbin' fences.

Kiverin' the floor with whiddlin's soon as ever you've got nicely slicked up! an' then down must come the broom an' dustpan agin; an' I remember once, when I kep' house for Uncle Amos, I hed the Dorkis S'iety to tea, an' I'd been makin' a nice dish of cream-toast, an' we was waitin' for the minister-blessed soul! he mos' gener'ly dropped in to tea when the S'iety met, an' he never failed when 'twas to our house, he was so *Copyright, 1877, by J. T. Trowbridge. All rights reserved.

fond o' my cream-toast-an' bimeby he come in, an when everybody was ready, I run and ketched up the things from the kitchen hairth, where I'd left 'em to keep warm, an' put 'em ontew the table, and we drawed up our chairs, an' got quiet, an' I never noticed anything was out o' the way, till bimeby, jes's the minister-blessed soul!—was a-askin' the blessin', I kind o' opened one corner of my eye to see how the table looked-for I pri ded myself on my table-when I declare to goodness, if I didn't think I should go right through the top of the house! For there was the great, splendid, elegant, nice dish o' cream-toast, stuccoted all over with pine whiddlin's! right between the blazin' candles Lucindy'd put on jes' as we was a-settin' down.

Ye see, I'd poured the cream over the toast the last thing when I set it by the fire, an' never noticed Hezekier in the corner a-whiddlin' out his canew-I should say canew! Why, that 'air cream-toast was like a foamin' cataract kivered by a fleet of canews, where the whiddlin's was curled up on't, capsized, stickin' up eendways an' every which way, enough to make a decent housekeeper go intew fits! An' I thought I should! I thought I never could keep still, an' set through the good man's blessin' in this world!

I shet my eyes, an' tried to keep my mind ontew things speritooal, but I couldn't for my life think of anything but the pesky whiddlin's in the toast, an' how was I ever goin' to snatch it off'm the table an' out of sight, the minute the blessin' was through, an' 'fore the minister-blessed soul!-or anybody had their eyes open to the material things; for right ontew the tail of the Amen, ye know, comp'ny will kind o' look 'round, hopeful and comf'table, to see what creatur' comforts is put afore 'em. But I watched my chance.

I knowed perty well the way he mos' gener'ly allers tapered off, an' soon's ever that long-hankered-for Amen come out, I jumped like a cat at a mouse, had that 'air toast off"m the table, whisked it into the pantry, picked